


Trapped in a Victorian Nightmare

by Desirae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Divergent, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Dean Winchester Deserves Nice Things, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Torture, s14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-15 19:39:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19302466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desirae/pseuds/Desirae
Summary: "Do you remember who I am?”Dean put his game face on and smirked. “Sorry, lady. I don’t have my little black book anymore. But I’m guessing it must not have been that memorable, because I am drawing a blank.”The slap was hard, nails making stinging cuts in his cheek.“So, not a former one night stand?” Dean asked, keeping his voice monotone. “Witch then?" Dean cocked his head, ignoring the head rush had his stomach lurching, and smiled widely, " Did I drop a house on your sister?” Dean knew goading her could be a mistake, but any information she let slip in her temper was information he hoped he could pass to his angel.Dean's been kidnapped. Despite the circumstances, he remains confident that Sam and Castiel will find him. While in and out of consciousness, Dean keeps himself occupied with thoughts of his blossoming romantic relationship with his angel best friend.





	Trapped in a Victorian Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Here is my contribution to the DRB. Thank you to our amazing mods who as per usual, did a phenomenal job organizing this whole thing.
> 
> The lovely art in this fic is by the talented [beefnerdles](https://beefnerdles.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my teapot/parabatai Bek for test driving another story for me.

                                                                  


Dean shielded his eyes from the sun as he pushed through the doors of the post office and onto the sunny sidewalk. Summer had come early to Lebanon, enough that he’d been able to forego his second layer, leaving him in his reclaimed AC/DC tee-shirt that smelled like grumpy-morning Cas. Dean’s hand clutched the padded envelope Marta had handed over to him. Not before they’d gone through her camera roll of pictures of her grandson’s birthday party. _Still a hellion_ , she’d said, but the kid was pretty adorable.

 

Being home on such a beautiful weekend was nice. They- _he, Cas, Sam, and Jack-_ were only now starting to get used to a more relaxed lifestyle of hunting. It felt odd to not be on _go, go, go_ mode anymore. Sometimes Dean worried they’d get too comfortable and something terrible would inevitably come and take them down. He was trying to curb that line of thinking.

 

It had been three months since Chuck, or God, depending on how well you knew him, had come and freed Jack from his possession by Lucifer.  After nearly killing Mary, it hadn’t taken long for a now soulless Jack to be ripe for the picking. Just a few months for things to spiral out of control.  The Shadow in the Empty had teamed up with Lucifer, releasing the archangel to claim his son as his vessel. The quicker Lucifer ripped the earth apart and destroyed humanity, the faster the Shadow would be able to claim Castiel.

 

Dean had been confused as to what Cas had to do with the Empty in the first place, and after months of cleaning up after Lucifer’s new reign of havoc and staying out of reach, he finally caught up to them. Lucifer had taken joy in taunting Dean and Sam with the angel’s latest secret.  It had been harsh, seeing that twisted smirk on Jack’s face while knowing it was the devil using his tongue now.

 

_3 months prior_

 

_“That’s right,” Lucifer said mockingly. “I’ve been biding my time, just waiting to see if he’d tell you himself. Oh, please,” Lucifer looked at Dean with false pity, “You didn’t really think you’ve evaded me this long because of your hunting skills? Pfft.  No. I just want to see if my brother would fess up. See, our Castiel has been keeping secrets again. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”_

 

_“Cas?” Dean questioned, head turning in Castiel’s direction where he, Cas and Sam were pinned to a brick wall with Lucifer’s grace._

 

_The angel had a look of regret and defeat on his face. His wide blue eyes locked on Dean’s and Dean’s stomach clenched for whatever it was that was going to spill from his lips._

 

_“I promised the Shadow of the Empty that in return for Jack he could have me.”_

 

_It took Dean a moment to find his voice. “I’m sorry, you what now?”_

 

_Castiel flinched at the bark in Dean’s voice, and Dean growled at Lucifer’s amused chuckle._

 

_“He can’t sleep. He won’t be able to until I return. I offered myself, but initially, he didn’t want to make the trade. Angels wind up in the empty when they die regardless, and he would have me eventually. When I pointed out that I could, quite literally, live for eons, he changed his mind and decided to deal.”_

 

_“Okay, we’re gonna go back to the you sacrificing yourself shit again in a minute, but how are you here then? “_

 

_“Oh, that’s the best part,” Lucifer snickered. “Let me tell it, please. You see, Dean,” Lucifer said, adopting a professor tone and furrowing his brow as he stroked his chin. God, he hated seeing Jack’s usually innocent face looking so... other. “The Shadow thought it would be poetic if our little angel here were able to experience a pure moment of joy before having to return to the Empty. It’s all very Buffy and Angel.”_

 

_Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas ain’t a virgin, so I think that ship has sailed.”_

 

_“Oh, Dean, Dean, Dean. You are so human. Stop thinking with your dick, man.  See, your sweet little angel cakes, here? He only wants one thing. That one thing that the two of you have been pathetically dancing around for years. The self-sacrificing, the epic staring contests, that nuisance of a bond,“ Lucifer tipped his head back yelling, “It’s so-oh-oh annoying! I mean the sexual tension alone is strong enough to make you wanna slit your throat, eh Sammy?”_

 

_“Don’t call me that,” Sam bit out._

 

_“Since the two of you are both too emotionally damaged to ever speak up, you can imagine how pleased the Shadow was when I just offered to kill you myself?” Lucifer laughed. “Beats waiting an eternity for the two of you to spill your guts, right?” he asked with a lifted brow._

 

_Dean struggled against the invisible bonds at his wrists, unable to look at Castiel because the kaleidoscope of emotions riding his face would probably give the angel whiplash. Cas loved him. Dean wasn’t stupid. He suffered from the same affliction. But to be the source of someone, an angel’s, true joy? That was scary as fuck and awe-inspiring and made his heart light up even as he felt a spark of shame for further corrupting his best friend. Dean forced his gaze to stay steady on Lucifer, defaulting to his overconfidence._

 

_“So what’s with the show then? You got us, here we are, pinned to a freaking wall. Are we just here for the evil villain gloating monologue?”_

 

_“Dean,” Castiel hissed, eyes wide and imploring as though there were anything they could do to get out of this situation. What a way to die, Dean thought. Eyes burnt out while invisibly handcuffed to the back of a Biggerson’s in the middle of nowheresville Pennsylvania at 3 a.m._

 

_“Well, I do enjoy bragging, but seriously guys. Killing you now would be too easy. It’ll be much more fun watching you get your hopes up as Team Free Will scrambles together, trying to hatch a plan to get out of this,” Dean grunted when he was suddenly released, the three of them landing hard on the cold cement. “Plus, I really want you to suffer as I kill as many apes as I want, whenever I want, all while knowing you three are out here, weak and flaccid,” he smirked and Dean grit his teeth as he got to his feet, rubbing at his sore throat. He felt Castiel and Sam flank him, and Dean arched a brow at Lucifer._

 

_“Your cockiness is gonna get you killed,” Dean warned, and Lucifer guffawed._

 

_“I’ll take my chances,” he said with a wink, before vanishing before their eyes._

 

The truth was, it _had_ gotten him killed. Things had moved relatively quickly after that encounter. Tensions with Cas were even more pronounced as they’d researched fruitlessly to find something to remove Lucifer from Jack and avoided talking about Castiel’s deal with the empty. It wasn’t until Sam and Rowena used the necklace Castiel had recovered with Anael to try and track down Chuck that he had finally shown. Dean could tell Castiel was hurt that once again, his prayers to God had been ignored, but he’d bitten back the hurt as Sam laid the situation out for him.

 

Dean didn’t know if time with Amara had softened him, or he just had a renewed sense of love for his creations, but Chuck had been much more obliged to help this time around than last time. When Chuck prepared to put Lucifer back in the cage, Castiel had again, to Dean’s anger and dismay begged to take Jack’s place as the vessel. When Dean had screamed his objections, Chuck leveled him with a steady gaze, somehow helping to dial back Dean’s panic.

 

Chuck had smiled, softly, and commended Castiel for being the most selfless of his angels. He had explained that he could remove Lucifer from Jack and return him to the cage, but Jack would not survive the process without an infusion of grace. Unless, of course, Castiel wanted to offer his. Chuck could transplant Castiel’s grace into Jack’s body, but in turn, Castiel would slowly, but surely, make the transition from angel to human.

 

It went unsaid that with Castiel human, there would be no reason for him to be lost to the empty.

 

Which meant there was no reason that Dean and Castiel had to continue to hold themselves back.

 

Easier said than done, of course, Dean thought wryly, as he tapped the envelope in his hand before climbing back into the Impala and tossing it in the passenger seat. They’d inched towards it, in true angsty fashion, with Sam rolling his eyes the entire way. Casual touches became more lingering. Movie nights had included more than slasher films and westerns because the sound of Cas’ laughter during romcoms and innocent delight when he was introduced to the music of Moana was too damn addictive. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh they would sit, much to his brother’s amusement. Nearly holding hands as they sat across from one another at Lebanon’s only 24-hour diner and an almost kiss after a hairier than usual salt and burn that was interrupted by resident cockblock Sam.

 

But finally, one balmy June night, things finally came together as they laid side by side on the hood of the Impala, underneath a canopy of stars.

 

_“Are you ever going to tell Sam that our simple salt and burn was just an excuse to go to The Elegance car show ?”_

 

_Dean raised a brow as he turned his head towards Castiel. “No. Not unless you want me to tell him how a certain angel of the Lord insisted on visiting the amusement park while we were in town and how he got sick and projectile vomited all over The Comet,” Dean couldn’t help but laugh as he said it. The absolute scowl on Castiel’s face had his expressive eyes narrowing, wide pink lips nearly pouting, and he only laughed louder. “It’s like the oldest roller coaster in the world. It’s made of fucking wood. Baby goes faster than she does,” Dean snickered._

 

_Castiel huffed, adorably. “That is a gross exaggeration. Yes, the Impala does go over fifty miles per hour, but not, I must point out, from a seventy-eight-foot drop. And, for your information, The Comet is not the oldest roller coaster in the world. The Comet was built in 1946. The Switchback Railway on Coney Island is the oldest roller coaster. It was built in 1884 and went six miles per hour.”_

 

_“Okay, one,” Dean lifted a finger as he scooted a little closer, “you used to fly, so that shouldn’t have been enough to make you toss your fried Oreos, and two: When the fuck did you have time to find all of that out, Cas-ipedia?”_

 

_Castiel’s lip tugged up in a half smile and Dean nearly sighed._

 

_“I know many things, Dean,” Castiel said gravely, though his eyes were alight with amusement._

 

_“Yeah, you do,” Dean murmured, his tone taking on a serious note. “Why you find talking to me so awesome, I’ll never know,” he said, self-deprecation lacing his words and Dean almost looked away when Cas’ eyes softened with a heart-clenching mix of fondness and love. Instead, he shuffled even closer as Castiel let a finger reach out to graze Dean’s cheek._

 

_“Oh, Dean. You know I enjoy our talks,” he whispered, close enough that Dean could feel the heat of his breath across his lips. “None of the numerous facts held in my vast memory are more stimulating than you,” Castiel revealed, stormy blue eyes flicking down towards Dean’s lips. He tracked the movement, tongue coming out to wet the flesh as he considered the angel lying next to him, his arresting face a hair’s breadth away._

 

_“Stimulating, huh?” Dean said gruffly, and when Castiel nodded, their lips brushed. A soft gasp escaped Dean’s lips at the contact, and for a heartbeat, Castiel’s eyes searched Dean’s for permission. He granted it by closing the distance himself. Lips caught and held; a gentle press. It was innocent, soft, like summer rain and Dean’s heart ached at the sweetness of it. He concluded it to be the best kiss of his jaded life._

 

They haven’t gone beyond that. In fact, Dean and Castiel’s relationship was all very _Jane Austen_ in its chasteness, but Dean was relishing it. Holding hands and innocent kisses that made Dean’s heart trip and stumble more than any he could remember in his long experience. Aside from Sam, Dean never had an emotionally intimate relationship as meaningful as the one he had with Castiel. Dean wasn’t typically romantic, but now that they’d crossed that vast chasm from best friend to more,  he wanted to celebrate it with some kind of meaningful gesture. Dean glanced down again into the passenger seat where an envelope full of documents sat. With help from Jodi, Donna and electronic finessing from new Charlie, Cas was now the owner of a social security number and I.D. for one _Castiel Winchester_ . It would be given to the soon to be former angel along with his own key to Baby with the initials _C.W._ engraved into it. That alone was a love confession of epic proportions.

 

Dean was planning a quiet dinner of his world famous- well, bunker-famous- bacon burgers, in the library, complete with wine and craft beer. Sam had promised to be scarce, going to a double feature with Jack at the movie theater outside of town. His stomach jumped, butterflies racing and making him this weird mix of excited and nauseous. Dean was so distracted in his thoughts as he started the car that he barely had time to blink when someone wrenched open the passenger side door, sliding into the seat and knocking Dean’s envelope to the floor of the car.

 

A stunning woman with long blond hair that hung in ringlets down her back regarded him with cold, blue-eyes, feline in their shape. He felt a sharp pinch in his arm and cursed the warm weather and his lack of flannel.

 

“Hey, there, Dean. Remember me?” her voice was honeycomb sweet, thick and drawl-ish and the last thing he heard before he whispered Cas’ name and black surrounded his vision.

 

* * *

 

 

When Dean came to he found himself handcuffed to a bed and nearly snorted at the irony that a few years back, being restrained to a bed by a beautiful blonde bombshell would have been in his top ten fantasies when all he really longed for now, was to share a recliner with Cas in the Dean Cave while they watched Planet Earth under the Scooby-Doo blanket Sam got him as a gag gift. Jokes on him, though, motherfucker is cozy as hell and extremely conducive to snuggling with angels.

 

Dean shook his head, reminding himself that he needed to focus.  He was dizzy from whatever the woman had injected him with, but Dean knew that it was necessary to observe as much of his surroundings as possible if he was going to relay to Cas and Sam where he was. The bed Dean was on was large, with an ornate iron headboard. The coverlet was lace and itched across the small of his back where his shirt had ridden up. The wall to his left was a basic beige with mahogany trim, and a painting of a woman shielded by a pink parasol sat in the middle. In front of him to the left was a door with an old-fashioned doorknob that he imagined used some antique skeleton key.  In front of him, across from the foot of the bed, was a large bureau in the same color as the trim, with an attached mirror framed by chubby-cheeked cherubs.

 

“What kind of Victorian nightmare is this?” Dean murmured to himself before focusing to the right wall which housed a window seat framed in thick, burgundy drapery. Judging from the view out the window Dean concluded he was on the second floor of what he assumed was a house. There was no traffic to be seen, no line of parked cars or signs that pointed towards an apartment building; instead, he saw a lush lawn meticulously cut and butterfly bushes. Stone statues were posed by a rose garden and immediately made him think of the weeping angels from _Doctor Who_ , creeping him right the fuck out.  He had to be on some kind of estate.

 

Dean angled his neck, craning to get a look at his watch and try to gauge how long he’d been here. If Cas’ angel radio was working, he might be able to pray him an image and time frame for him and Sam to start looking. Dean couldn’t allow himself to believe he wouldn’t be found. Not when he finally had everything he ever wanted.

 

 _11:07_.  A little over an hour. So even if Dean had been knocked out for a bit, he still couldn’t be too far from Lebanon. Maybe he was even still in town. Dean closed his eyes and brought Castiel to the forefront of his mind, where he never strayed too far. Perhaps it was silly, but he purposely didn’t picture the scruffy face he left smooshed against Dean’s pillow from where the angel had fallen asleep watching Netflix with him the night before. Instead of the sleep pants and stolen tee-shirt, the angel had slept in, he pictured Cas at his most angelic; ill-fitting suit, ever-present trenchcoat, and tie.

 

 _Hey, Cas you got your ears on? I’m in a little bit of trouble_ -Dean didn’t get much further than that when turning of the lock sounded in the door.

 

“I see you’re awake,” came the silky voice of his captor.  He ignored the stupid swelling of victory when he saw that she was, indeed, holding a skeleton key. “That’s good. Do you remember who I am?”

 

Dean put his game face on and smirked. “Sorry, lady. I don’t have my little black book anymore. But I’m guessing it must not have been that memorable, because I am drawing a blank.”

 

The slap was hard, nails making stinging cuts in his cheek.

 

“So, not a former one night stand?” Dean, cheek stinging, kept his voice monotone. “Witch then?" Dean cocked his head, ignoring the head rush had his stomach lurching, and smiled broadly, " Did I drop a house on your sister?” Dean knew goading her could be a mistake, but any information she let slip in her temper was information he hoped he could pass to his angel.  
 

 

The woman snarled at him and bared her teeth, canines peeking out and her eyes flashing green and gold like a cat. She stalked over to Dean and quickly straddled his thighs, bracketing them with her black leather clad knees. His eyes widened as her ruby-red nails elongated into razor-sharp claws.

 

“Not my sister,” she spat out before viciously slicing through the material of his tee-shirt and leaving it shredded. Thin lines of blood welled up from the scratches and Dean fought a gasp of surprise at the action. “But don’t worry. I’m going to help jog your memory before I kill you, hunter. “

 

“We’ll see about that,” Dean grit out, voice confident as a litany of _Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas_ repeated in his head.

  
  
  
  


* * *

 

 

Castiel stumbled blearily into the bunker kitchen. He ignored the amused chuckle from Sam leaning against the sink drinking some kind health shake that Dean would no doubt tease him endlessly for. The clock on the microwave told him it was just past 11 a.m., which meant Sam had finished his morning run, taken a shower, and judging by the smell, made himself some kind of vegetable omelet. Dean, Castiel was sure, was already out checking the mail at the post office, probably sneaking a jelly donut from the bakery in town, even though he’d come back with only coffee and powdered sugar on his shirt. It was BOGO Friday at the liquor store, and the forecast for the weekend was gorgeous. Castiel was hoping that would mean a trip to the lake, just him and Dean. They had tentative plans to take off Saturday morning; Dean, being uncharacteristically shy, had brought up the idea while he, Dean and Sam were searching the web for new cases. When Castiel had inquired about Sam joining them, Dean had quickly waved it off citing that Sammy was never one for fishing anyway, the worms freak him out. The younger Winchester had flashed Dean what Cas had recognized over the years as what Dean referred to as his ‘Bitch-Face.’ But then Sam had laughed and told Cas not to worry about him and that he was sure that he and Dean would be just fine on their own.

 

Castiel felt his lip curve up in a half smile at the memory. He knew that Sam was giving them room to explore what was going on between him and Dean. The angel and the hunter with the profound bond were finally acknowledging their feelings, he thought to himself ruefully. It was a long time coming.

 

“How long ago did Dean leave?” Castiel asked after his first gratifying sip of coffee.

 

Sam furrowed his brow. “You know, it’s been awhile. I thought he would have been back by now. Maybe he has some more errands to run.”

 

Castiel smiled softly. “You mean for the romantic dinner I’m not supposed to know about?”

 

Sam’s eyebrows rose “What? How-”

 

“Jack. Unintentionally, of course. Don’t tell him he ruined the surprise, please. I hear you’re going to the movies,” Castiel said, and Sam laughed.

 

“Yes, I think Claire is joining us too, maybe Rowena,” Sam said that part a bit shyly but Castiel didn’t judge. Here he was a soon to be former angel in love with a  human, as far as Castiel was concerned, Sam could date whomever he wanted.

 

It was sudden. The sharp tug on Dean’s conscious before he heard it. _Cas, Cas, Cas,_ a running monologue. Dean. The coffee mug slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, shattering.

 

“Cas? Cas, what is it?” the worry in Sam’s voice filtered in as Castiel shifted wide-panicked eyes to him.

 

“Dean. Something is wrong with him. I think he’s been captured.”

 

“Why? What do you see?” Castiel held a hand up to Sam, effectively halting his questions.

 

“I need a- hang on,” Castiel closed his eyes and focused, blocking out all noise and thoughts aside from connecting with his hunter. His fist clenched and unclenched at his side as he fought down his panic and listened.

 

_Cas. Cas, I don’t know if you can hear me. I got ambushed at the post office. And by ambushed I mean one psycho chick slid into Baby and shot me with some knockout juice._

 

Castiel paced agitatedly as Dean’s voice stopped, trying not to wonder what had made him stop praying. He was almost ready to leave the bunker and head to the post office himself, at least to look for clues before Dean’s voice echoed in his head again. He couldn’t deny that his knees went weak when he heard it.

 

_Sorry bout that, Cas. It’s hard to concentrate when some bitch is playing slasher with my skin. Fuck, that hurts. I was taken about an hour ago. I- fuck, fuck, fuck, that stings. Son of a bitch._

 

Castiel’s heart clenched at the sound of Dean’s pain and he must have made a whimper of some sort because he felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder.

 

_I figure I can’t be too far away. She’s not human, I can tell. There is no one else here and no way she carried me up to this room by herself unless she has some juice. She seems to know me, and her eyes keep flashing at me like a cat. We have any witch-familiar cases gone bad recently? Hang on. I think I’m gonna pass out._

 

Castiel wanted to scream Dean’s name but knew it would do no good. His human couldn’t hear him. Instead, he brought Sam up to speed.

 

“He’s in a house, I think. He kept showing me… old fashioned furniture, and statues. Stone statues in a garden,” Castiel said, brows furrowed, ear cocked as though that would net him a better signal. “He’s only been gone for about an hour,” Castiel continued, but Sam was already on it, laptop up and open on the kitchen table.

 

“We need to get a list of all the estates within an hour of the post office, maybe some of the pictures will be familiar to you,” Sam said, reasonably while Castiel’s stomach was a jumbled mass of nerves. If there was ever a time when Castiel missed his wings being whole and healthy, it was when Dean was in danger, and Cas couldn’t fly.

 

“Alright. I suppose that’s the best we can do until Dean calls to me again,” Castiel replied. “Hang on, Dean,” he gritted out, peering over Sam’s shoulder to read the laptop screen.

 

* * *

 

_The light of the television flickered over Cas’ face catching his ever-changing blue eyes, turning them a vivid indigo and Dean almost missed what the angel was saying.  They were sharing a recliner, a tight squeeze, but he didn’t mind as he lay draped half over Castiel’s body._

 

_Sam was making popcorn, thinking Dean had ordered the wrestling match, but in fact, had ordered a pay per view performance of Celine Live.  He would want to burn off his ears by the end of it, but the epic bitchface on Sam’s face when Dean hits play will be well worth the 15.99 on whoever’s credit card they were using that month._

 

_“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Dean asked, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks as Cas peered down at him with knowing smile._

 

_“I said I don’t need you to take me on some date where you steal me flowers from the neighbors’ yard-_

 

_“We don’t have neighbors.”_

 

_Castiel rolled his eyes, a trait he was highly skilled at and never ceased to amuse him_

 

_“Or sit at some fancy restaurant pretending to get to know each other when we already know each other better than anyone else so that you can foot the whole bill like I am some fair maiden. That’s very antiquated, Dean.”_

 

_Dean scoffed and flashed what he hoped was a charming smile. “Nah, it’s old school. It’s not all bad.”_

 

_Cas carded his fingers through Dean’s hair, and he sighed. Cas’ whole expression screamed adoration so loudly it was almost like it was whispered in his ear. He felt warm, and for a moment Dean wondered if he was feeling the angel’s wings. He didn’t ask, not wanting to break the moment as Cas smiled and said in his rough timbre:_

 

_“No. It’s not all bad.”_

 

_“Hey, I got you guys your own bowl. I don’t wanna interrupt any romantic hands brushing in the popcorn cliches,” Sam’s teasing voice broke the quiet bubble, and Castiel raised his brow._

 

_“Bitch.”_

 

_Dean guffawed at Castiel’s use of Dean’s standard answer. Sam snickered and hunkered over to his own recliner. Dean adjusted, so he was sitting on Castiel’s lap, grabbing the remote._

 

_“You ready?” Dean asked._

 

_“Yeah,” Sam said, “cue her up.”_

 

_Castiel looked at him with fond amusement as Dean pressed play._

 

_The sound of the audience screams were loud, and it took Sam a minute._

 

_“Oh my God, you’re such a jerk!” Sam’s voice was filled with all the righteousness of a wronged teenager, and Dean threw his head back laughing, shoulder shaking as he fell against Cas’ body.”_

 

_“Just for that, we’re watching it,” Sam said smugly._

 

_“Yes, we are,” Castiel said solemnly. “Mr. Henderson’s MasterCard paid good money for this concert.”_

 

_Dean thought he couldn’t laugh harder._

 

The present doused him in stark reality as Dean came to with a gasp. Frigid water soaked his body from where he still laid chained to the bedpost. He had no idea how long he’d been out. His nose smelled like chloroform, and Dean wondered if she had used more to keep him under when the pain from all of the slices she’d made in his body coupled with the whiskey she’d poured over them had him passing out. The shallow cuts on his body stung from the cold, while the deeper ones felt more numb, which he imagined wasn’t a good thing.

 

_Hey Cas. It’s getting a little dicey here. I’m laughing in my head right now, ’cause dicey. Well, you’ll see when you get here. Sorry, I’m a little out of it. Cas, please get here. But if you don’t… I love you, okay. And tell Sam I love him too._

 

Dean gasped when he felt the knife drag down his arm, slicing ever closer towards his wrists.

 

When the woman snarled down at him, her eyes were full feline, and Dean realized what he thought was a knife had been her nails.

 

“Who are you?” he managed to grit out and was rewarded with a hiss.

 

“How do you not remember? You killed my witch. She was _everything_ to me, and you just obliterated her.”

 

“If I killed a witch, then it was deserved,” Dean bit back a moan when the familiar sank her claws into his sides and black filtered around the edges of his vision.

 

“I haven’t been able to shift in _seven_ years. Seven years stuck in this body. Imagine my surprise when I come to my hometown, just hoping that reconnecting with my past might trigger some kind of response in my body and instead I see _you_ . Walking through town like you own it, friends with all of the store owners. Flaunting your happy love-life as you stroll down the street with _tall, dark, and handsome_.  What right do you have to that after what you took from me?”

 

“Oh, trust me, lady, I earned that right,” Dean managed to push past the pain. The loud sound of something crashing, what he assumed was a door had Dean grinning tiredly. “I believe that is my brother and tall, dark, and handsome right now,” he said.

 

“Dean! Dean!” Sam and Castiel’s voices boomed through the house and the woman sitting astride him began to shake with rage. Just as Dean heard the blast of what had to be Castiel’s mojo busting the door, she gripped Dean by the hair and arched his neck.

 

“He’s too late,” she hissed, slicing her razor-sharp claw across his jugular. Dean had a second to hear Sam’s cry of despair, and Castiel’s one of rage. As Dean gasped soundlessly, his vision blurred, catching on Castiel. He saw the angel’s eyes glow, electric blue and bright enough to pierce through the foggy veil covering his own.  Dean vaguely registered the sound of a bullet as Cas came closer and his wide-palmed hand cupped his throat. Cas’ grace was both hot and cool; tingling fire then soothing ice as his skin healed leaving him trembling and spent; Castiel, as well, as the angel’s body, slumped over, head resting on Dean’s freshly healed chest.

 

Castiel’s breath puffed against his skin as he panted. “Hello, Dean.”

 

Dean raised a shaky hand and pushed it through Castiel’s dark hair, watching as the sun streaming in from the window teased out shades of red and gold in the angel’s hair.

 

“Heya, Cas.”

 

* * *

 

“Sam said your abductor's name was Bridget Kelley.  As far as he can trace back, it was a case you had a few years ago. Her last known address was what clued him in. As far as Sam can recollect, the two of you were hunting a  witch who had been sacrificing teens for a ritual she thought would grant immortality, and apparently, you had the kill shot. Sam remembers an orange tabby.” Castiel said before taking a healthy bite of the bacon cheddar cheeseburger Dean had prepared for them. His grace had been significantly drained while healing his hunter and he wondered if this was the beginning of it burning out.  He took a swig from his beer bottle tasting the flavor more than the molecules and studied the man before him; his beautiful eyes the color of soft moss, the play of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and Castiel unequivocally deemed him worth it.

 

“How fucked up is it that we’ve killed so many witches over the years that that doesn’t even make a dent in my memory bank?” The question was laced with false humor, and Castiel reached out a hand to grasp Dean’s.

 

“With all the horrors you have seen, I am grateful that you don’t have to remember all of them,” Castiel said tenderly, and Dean’s face softened, lips curving up in a smile.

 

“You know, for a former multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent, you’re pretty good at this whole supportive boyfriend thing,” Dean said affectionately, and Castiel laughed.

 

“Oh, that reminds me,” Castiel leaned over and picked up the thick manila envelope that had been found in the Impala with Dean’s name on it. “Being the good boyfriend that I am,” Cas smiled when Dean laughed,” I brought this in from the car for you.”

 

“Well, thank you. But actually. That, uh…,” Dean rubbed the back of his neck in that way that always signaled nervousness. “That’s for you. I wanted to do something... I don’t know,  to show you, you know, how in this I am.”

 

Castiel felt warm all over at Dean’s words, stilted and sweet though they were.  Cas unsealed the envelope, gently emptying the contents onto the table. He swallowed the lump in his throat, as the sharp sting of tears welled in his eyes.

 

 _Castiel Winchester_ . Driver’s license, social security card, both in black and white declaring him a Winchester. His heart raced as happiness filled him near to bursting. His eyes fell on the car key with the initials _C.W._ etched on it, and looked at Dean.

 

“It’s just, well. We’re practically married anyway,” Dean said, almost defensively and Castiel let out a soft burst of laughter.

 

“Practically,” he agreed, getting up from his seat. Dean stood and turned as well, arms open and ready to receive him. Castiel pressed his face into the crook of Dean’s neck and murmured a quiet thank you. For a moment he just held tight, breathing in Dean’s addicting leather and spice scent, before he angled his head up, mouth searching.

 

Their lips met in a kiss that began achingly tender. Soft barely there presses of lips that eventually turned darker. Lips were caught and gently nibbled, drawn in for sucking bites and soothing brushes of tongues. Castiel’s hands fisted in Dean’s hair as the angle changed again, mouths slotting together deliciously. Their bodies were aligned from head to toe, and a wicked heat held them in a swaying dance as they rubbed against each other. What started as innocent was now deep, dark, and wet and when they pulled back to breathe Castiel could see love, desire, and need glistening in Dean’s green and gold-flecked eyes.

 

“Perhaps,” Castiel’s voice was ragged and made Dean grin. “Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private.”

 

“There’s no one else but us here in the library, Cas,” Dean said teasingly, and Castiel rolled his eyes fondly.

 

“Even still, I’d rather not do what I think we are about to do for the very first time in the middle of the bunker library,” Cas said drily, and Dean nodded, playfully.

 

“Fair enough,” Dean murmured silky, before claiming Cas’ lips in another drugging kiss, taking his hands in his calloused ones, pulling Castiel from the room. His heart felt as light as a cloud when Dean tugged him down the hallway and into his bedroom, pushing the angel onto the plush memory foam. They took their time undressing with soft caresses and long looks of love. And when Castiel received Dean into his body,  their eyes locked and reverent on each other until they each crested, breaking like waves on the shore.

 

Later, when he lay curled around Dean, sated and loose-limbed Castiel thought again about his dwindling grace and how he had ended up here. So full of human emotion, overflowing with love, desire, and a need to cherish the gruff man in his arms.

 

“I love you, Cas,” the words were delicate and raw, and as Cas echoed them back in a whisper, he thought, again, that yes, Dean was worth it. He was worth everything.

 

The End


End file.
